Sitting duck

Mayyyybe, if I write on here, you will all get the message at once, and I won’t have to worry about not being in touch with you all, all the time, or at least often enough for you to know I still think of you as a good friend. I feel overwhelmed again today. I started out on form but the day wore me down. I felt more competent and polite and warm with the customers at work than I ever have. But I still come home to a cup of tea and msn and the same deep empty pull in my stomach. The same want to walk out and say fuck you all, none of this means anything and I’d rather have a bath. My friends are just as low if not further engrossed in the same black cloud as me at the moment, and I want to be there for them. I am here, by the way, if you do read this, any time of day or night, I don’t care how close we are or when we last spoke, I am here for you if you want SOMEONE to talk to, vent to, I know that feeling and I have tried people at 3am to no avail. I have tried and got hold of a boyfriend. You should all know by now too that it feels good to think you are making someone happy too, it is psychological fact that the giver of favours is always more satisfied than the receiver. So let me give whenever I can. I know I don’t call on all of you as much as I maybe should. I will get round to all those phonecalls, I promise.

I got a gift tonight that made me cry a bit inside. Thank you. It was a very sweet thing. You clearly know me very well.

Last night before I fell asleep I hallucinated a woman’s voice, very loud and clear, in my ear, saying, ‘They’ve gone to bed.’ First time I’ve heard a voice that wasn’t there. I continue to see half visions every now and then. I really wish my chemical imbalances could manifest them in physical ways, (perhaps preventing me from work?) as opposed to this psychosis. I never thought I’d be in this box. I think it’s given a bad name really because it does sound cliché but it’s so much more real than that.

I still feel crazy. I still feel down. I need a bigger dose please, and I want the government to care instead of making me fill out a monthly questionnaire based on figures that are supposed to deduce my levels of anxiety and depression, and then get filed away in a dusty corridor to be pulled out as evidence when I hit someone’s car, or get thrown away when I say I am better. I guess I’m being harsh. I just know what happened to our evaluation forms at university. AND, if you care so much how I feel that you’ve made it the law for my doctor to give that to me, maybe you could take some time to acknowledge, diagnose and address it for me? Being the health department and all.

Aside from the moaning. A suppressed worry is surfacing, having been kept at bay for the duration of my relationship with my boyfriend so far. I feel almost like he doesn’t know the real me, that either I have hidden certain aspects of it from him, or he has chosen to ignore them because he doesn’t like them. Little things add to this, like the way he doesn’t really care for massage, which is such a massively good thing in my eyes that it shocks me how he can refuse them and really not care at all. What is wrong with you, I think. Well. Maybe he just isn’t into it. So what got him into me? I know I am more than massage. But what am I, if I am not the things I can summon when asked what I do and enjoy. And shouldn’t he love everything I do and even NEED it, on a daily basis, for the rest of his life? Am I surplus to his existence? To everyone’s? Is there a reason I was loud and beautiful and noticed in the street until I started school and then shut myself up and was never heard, but still thought myself top of the class until I was fourteen and was told we plateau, is there a reason I always dreamed big and ignored the hard facts of drama being a redundant career choice and fannied on with it till the age of twenty-two and then slumped into this massive pool that seems to have been hoarding all my negativity and paranoia from years past, bubbling with hurtful memories of things like shutting bunnies in doors by accident, and getting my first disappointed look from a teacher, calling my mother something awful. Is there a reason I went through all of this, pulled myself up, thought myself wonderful at the core, strode back to reality with an ‘I’m ready’ smile on my face, and ended up serving people ice cream while they shout at me like a problem child. Is there a reason I have never, though I’ve wanted to, said ‘Yes, that’s what I gave you because that’s what you asked for, now fuck off before I spit in it,’ and thrown my baseball cap on the floor, headed for the sunshine that taunts us from outside all day every day. Real life awaits. This can’t go on forever. If it does for much longer, I am sorry life, but I’ve had enough and I can’t keep waiting. If better isn’t ready for me yet, I think it’s time to give up.


3 thoughts on “Sitting duck

  1. You know it does actually feel REALLY liberating to shout “fuck you all” and storm out. I’ve done that kind of thing a couple of times and never had a problem getting another job. Infact when I was an office manager I did it a couple of times and each time the boss came with flowers or booze to beg me back (but that was a weird set-up, it’s highly unlikely if you work in a cinema!) Or you could tell the doctor exactly what you feel and she’ll have to sign you off for a week. That’s what happened to me, I went to the doctor told her to sign me off or I’d end up walking , she did and I used that week to literlly turn my life around. That was 17 months ago and my life has been uphill ever since – and of course because I was no longer mental I was back to being the woman Alex met, we got engaged, then married and then all of a sudden all the anxieties of “maybe I’m not good enough” are gone because he’d hardly marry me if I wasn’t what he wanted … the perfect opposite of a vicious spiral! AND on Sunday it is Spring, EVERYTHING looks better in the Spring.
    Look after yourself x

  2. I have totally heard voices and hallucinated visually as well before, am I insane? No, I was just tired, literally just sleep deprived, if I don’t sleep for more than 24 hours then my mind starts to melt a little at a time and I get both kinds of hallucinations before long. Shit happens, the mind is a weird place and it pulls funny tricks sometimes, don’t see that as a bad thing. Let that shit go, anyone who pretends they have never had any symptoms of serious mental illness is just lying or ignorant of how these things manifest themselves so they don’t recognise it when it happens (ever checked and re-checked things irrationally because you were worried about something? Keys, essays, locks, gas? OCD, without a doubt. Trying to control the situation through pointless action and repetition, but as long as you retain your sense of scale about things then it probably won’t become chronic so relax), it doesn’t mean that this is not within the normal range of behaviours for a human being. Mental disorders are exaggerations of behaviours we have been pre-programmed with for good reasons, but which then are considered debilitating if they become prominent to a degree where they adversely affect other activites. I guess what I am trying to say in a rambly way is, don’t take your hallucinating too seriously, it’s scary but it’s pretty normal in the grand scheme of things.

    That plateau remark has haunted me too by the way! It surprising how often my thoughts have returned to that statement over the years and especially recently. It pretty much describes my life so far, kicked arse at school, awesome grades but big fish in a small pond so big whoop, then average average average from there on out. Got a decent-ish grade at college, then just a pass grade at foundation, then a measly 2:2 (I prefer the term Desmond) and now I’m stuck in an entry-level job in a possiby dying industry with shit pay, part-time, in debt, and have failed at every attempt so far to get myself up even one level on the career scale! I’d like to think she was wrong, old Anette but I have this nagging doubt that she was right. I guess my attitude is that I don’t have to prove her wrong, just proved to myself that I haven’t reached that plateau point yet! I have potential yet to use. I have had set-backs but I will move forward and become better, so I am trying as many different areas as I can/am interested in. I just got a job interview so who knows.

    As for guilt about stupid stuff I have felt that so often, and still do. You really have to work to keep that in check. I felt totally paralysed with shame about an incident when I was 4 where I accidently knocked part of a project off the table to be lost forever and then watched silently for what felt like hours as my Mum tried to make sense of what was left without success. I even appologised at length to her a couple of years ago to try to exorcise it because it was bagging me so much. She didn’t even remember, I didn’t think that she would but it still haunted me anyway. Talking about it and why it was so ridiculous that I still felt that way helped, cause you just laugh at that fear that you are secretly bad and deserve to feel bad about stuff you didn’t really mean and which didn’t really affect anything too much anyway. I’ve done some things I feel awful about, but many many thing I feel good about too so I try to see the balance whenever that monster rears it’s head.

    As for drama, you are in the wrong town missy, but theres not much you can do about that. There’s work out there, and joyful work too but I don’t think you will find it in your cloistered family home. I guess you are not in a position to try to re-adjust that aspect of your life while you sort out a recovery from your present malaise but as soon as you and hubby are able then you need to get yourselves out of there and go where the work is. You could look at it like this; your career is on hold whilst you focus on other priorities like getting to have a real relationship with Foxxy-Loxxy where you actually get to see each other. In the meantime you are pursuing other projects to find creative fulfillment without professional pressure. You’ll get back to the serious business of becoming that Auteur/Artiste when you are good and ready to do it properly.

    Phew, that’s enough babble now, love always honey. xx

    P.S. Manbeast doesn’t care for massage either, wtf is up with that? Curious creatures….Their loss!

  3. Edits:
    *prove to myself
    and probably others.
    I shouldn’t type so fricking fast it makes me sloppy!
    Plus; stream of conciousness comment = probably all bollocks.

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